The broken hearts

I laughed nervously, taking another drink. “Sex? What’s that?” I said trying to make a joke out of it, though she too obviously appeared nervous.

“It’s what we both used to enjoy doing at one time,” she quipped. “Though it sounds like it’s almost been as long for you, as it’s been for me,” she said candidly.

“You’re telling me you haven’t since…”

“Cooper? No,” she said, shaking her head confirming she hadn’t. “The only thing I’ve been dating is my battery-operated toy.”

“Jesus Sophia!” I was shocked to hear that she even had one of those things. Even Mila had shied away from ever using one, though I had once suggested she get one just as a way of spicing up our sex-life. She’d treated me to a cucumber episode, which had been good enough without the addition of batteries.

“What? Just because I’m still single and not seeing anyone, doesn’t mean I don’t still have the urges or desires from time to time Jacob,” she said, giving me that look again. “And I seriously doubt you don’t either,” she then added accusing me.

The truth is, I hadn’t masturbated much at all since my wife’s death. Only a handful of times at best really, though there had been one incident, which I actually told Sophia about.

“Ok, so I’m not quite as celibate as you are,” I confessed. “Though even that was almost an accident.”

“Don’t tell me…you were walking along with a hard on, tripped and accidentally slipped inside some woman’s pussy,” she said.

I had almost forgotten just how crass Sophia could get, though her mannerisms and uninhibited nature never failed to make me laugh.

“Not quite…but almost,” I said, seeing her expression change to one of curiosity as she settled back into her chair.

“Ok…so spill it. Tell me…what DID happen then?” She asked.

“Two months ago, just before Christmas at the annual office party?” I tossed out as she nodded her head remembering I had invited her to come to it, though she never did. As we always did, we rented out a small local bar, owned by a friend of mine who closed the place just for us so we could hold our annual Christmas party there. Between the three shops,

with the employees and their significant others, we had nearly sixty people there, give or take a few. Barb…a woman that worked in the main shop that I spent most of my time at, was just as good a service repair technician as any of the guys were. And she didn’t take any guff from anyone either, with good reason.

She could probably handle herself well in a fair fight with any of them. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying she was a butch-dyke lesbian, even if she did happen to look like one. Nor had anyone been daring enough, or stupid enough to ask her about that either. Barb…well, Barb was just Barb. And for the most part, everyone let it go at that. The fact she didn’t come with anyone, was telling perhaps.

But even then, no one asked her if she was planning on bringing anyone. Certainly not me anyway. The one problem Barb did have however, was being able to hold her liquor. She was, as we used to say, a “cheap date” or “easy drunk,” after three fairly stiff drinks, Barb was bobbing and weaving about through the tables and chairs with everyone expecting her to topple over at any moment.

Barb was almost a Christmas tradition with everyone making bets on what time she’d finally pass out.

I had headed off to the bathroom to relieve myself, standing there at the urinal when I heard someone else coming in. Not thinking anything of it, I finished up, shook it off and was just starting to turn around when I heard her standing directly behind me. Honest to god…I think she’d been looking over my shoulder.

(Sophia was by now laughing hysterically as I told her this story, continuing on).

“Then what happened?” She asked, still snickering.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about it. At first…I thought she had accidentally entered the men’s room, as drunk as she was. But then when I turned and got a really good look at her, she was standing there with her shirt open, bra pulled up and over her tits, with both of them winking at me.”

Once again Sophia was laughing. “You always were a tit-man Jacob,” she said, shaking her head. “I know…and remember,” she laughed even harder. “You were always trying to get a peek at mine.”

“Never mind that,” I interrupted. “Do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?”

“I’m all boobs Jacob. I mean…all ears. Yes, please, by all means…tell me the rest of it.”

I was looking at my sister’s boobs however, once more forced to tear my eyes away from them, back up towards her face again. “So anyway, now I am stunned, confused…looking at Barb’s tits. Are they beautiful? No…not really. They were big yes…and a bit flabby, nipples even pointing down as opposed to pointing up any. But…they were tits, and it had been a while, like I said. And damned if my dick hadn’t actually grown some.”

“Like it is now maybe?” Sophia teased as I shot her a look. “Sorry, she quickly added, couldn’t help saying that. Please…continue.”

“So before I can even react to anything, suddenly Barb lunges forward, pinning me against the damned urinal!” I said as Sophia once again burst out laughing, trying to picture that. “So here I am, trying to keep from collapsing down into that, Barb’s hands suddenly all over me, managing to unzip my fly again, undoing my belt. I’m trying to fight her off of course…”

“Ah huh,” Sophia snickers.